


Benefactor

by TheSlayersCake



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Episode 26 spoilers, I want them to feel powerful again, Short anger fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlayersCake/pseuds/TheSlayersCake
Summary: The Mighty Nine have a new mission.





	Benefactor

The Gentleman raised his arms happily, welcoming the aura of the Mighty Nine in with a gesture that some could called familiar. His charismatic smile quickly turned quizzical and lopsided as it seems his new contractors were not only battered but absolutely despondent. "Ahhh the Might Nine return! Cutting it close on your contracts due date, but your message did arrive to me without issue... Why the long faces? And aren't we missing a face?" he spoke, snapping his fingers as two of his guards went to retrieve the payment as per the agreement.

"We uhh... ran into a spot a trouble." Fjord spoke, a few new scars on his face now noticeable as he stepped up. The half-orc looked not only gloomy but deflated; his entire physique indicated a lack of nutrition in recent weeks.  
"Molly's dead." Jester spoke, her voice giving a slight shake as the words left her lips. The normally bubbly and wild blue tiefling shrank into herself, the motion of her head looking downward bringing the broken horn to attention.  
"Ah the... more colourful one, yes? Well I-... I'm very sorry for your loss. You-, You two in particular look like you're in need of a hot meal and a good amount of rest. Could we get some meals for these fine folk, please? Chop chop! Ahem-, What sort of trouble did you find yourself in exactly?" The Gentleman seemed much more curious than normal, the air in the room taking a more serious tone as even the guard seemed more somber at the arrival.  
"Cages. Ehh... Yasha, Jester and I were taken in the night by this group-, 'Called themselves the Iron Shepards, and we broke out in the night and regrouped after a week of running. The leader apparently... Took care of Molly when they tried rescuin' us." Fjord spoke with shame in his voice, an unspoken admittance of his sense of failure.   
"It's my fault..." Beau spoke, her arms constantly crossed.  
"No it's not, it was that Keg woman-" Nott spoke but was silenced as Caleb pulled her shoulder back, his silent scowl enough to communicate a need for silence to the goblin.

"Iron Shepards..." The Gentleman spoke up, the guards bringing in the sacks of gold and placing them on the nearby table. "Sorah, pour me a drink, will you?" he spoke, the goliath nodded and shuffling to the bar. The Gentleman stroked his beard a few times before his lips curled in a menacing smile. "I deal in many things, Mr.Fjord. Drugs, smuggling, counter fitting, weapon trade... But there is one facet of the criminal world that, well, it turns my stomach."  
The Mighty Nine seemed to almost perk up, looking a little confused as they waited for their employer to finish his thought.  
"Slavers are some of the most truly evil people in this world. Treating people like livestock, stealing them in the night, and mrdering those who would dare consider defience. I was a slave in my younger days... It's what defined me as a person. I was smart, capable and lucky enough to cut the throats of just about every person who would ever consider me property and Mr.Fjord," he slammed his palm onto the table, every single person in the bar giving their full attention as the place became dead silent,

"You have peaked my interest! I would propose a new reward for your good deeds. Your monetary reward will be halved and in exchange, you will have the full, unquestioning support of my troupe in the complete and utter obliteration of these Iron Shepards."

Before another word or motion could be made, Beauregard pushed her way past Fjord and held out her hand, tears running down her face. Her frown faltered, quivering as she held her emotions in check. Her hand and the Gentleman's collided with a definitive shake as their eyes met, the bar erupting in a rousing chant of cheers. Every brawler, gunman and sell-sword in the Evening Nip knew something big was coming and it would be all hands on deck.

Beau took in a deep breath, every muscle in her chest stretching as she pushed her emotions back into place. She pushed the breath out of her nostrils, her chest, arms and abdominals tightening as she spoke,

"Let's kill some fucking slavers."

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quickie. I'm assuming there are problems with grammar or formatting or something but I don't care. Just for funsies. I'll write smut when I'm less sad.


End file.
